CHAPTERTWENTY-EIGHT
When Bryce saw the hunting croft come into view, he wanted to tear it down with his bare hands. It was a small, elevated cabin with dark wood walls that blended into the surrounding forest. He was amazed that he’d never known about it before. He had grown up playing with Athol and eventually Lorna, and he thought that he and Watt knew every inch of the surrounding lands.
“I suppose I should have kenned about this,” Bryce said as he and Tobias and Fergus drew closer. The man decided to come with them in the end, thinking that his presence would do well to help keep Athol from making any foolish mistakes.
If Lorna is still alive.
“Athol likely kept it a secret for the most part so that he could bring women back here whenever he wanted,” Tobias said with a grimace.
“I thought it was just for hunting. He was a keen hunter,” Fergus said feebly, as if to make excuses.
They walked up to the door, and Tobias tapped him, bidding him to slow his gait. He whispered, “We should wait. We donnae ken what he will do if we barge inside. We should find a way tae sneak in.”
Everything in Bryce railed against that idea. His true love was inside there, possibly hurt or on the verge of death, and he couldn’t bear the thought of waiting for it to happen when he could do something about it.
“Nae, I cannae do that, lad,” he said, and without another word, he raced up the steps and burst in through the door. The door gave easily, and Bryce was certain it was because Athol had been confident that he would not be found. It was a small cottage with two rooms. He’d entered the main space where there was a small fire crackling and a few chairs scattered about a table. He saw there was a door to his right, and he raced inside.
There, on the bed, was a frightened Lorna with a tall Athol looming over her. She cried out his name when she saw him, and it made his heart leap. When Athol’s eyes looked at who had arrived, however, Bryce almost reeled back at the wildness he saw in them. Athol looked different somehow, and it gave Bryce pause.
“What in the bloody Hell are ye doing?” he asked, stepping forward to reach for Lorna, but Athol pulled her against him.
“Nae, I willnae end like this!” Bryce put his hands out in a placating manner when he saw the shine of a blade against Lorna’s throat.
“Athol, I ken ye, lad,” he said calmly. “Ye wouldnae do this.” Tobias stood at Bryce’s side, standing firm and tall, but silent. Tobias was wise to remain so, for Athol had never trusted the English to begin with. This would be Bryce and Fergus’s challenge to calm the madman standing before him. The madman who held his daughter in his arms, ready to cut her throat at any moment if it saved his own skin.
“Why should I nae? Me life is ruined now.” Athol’s eyes were practically red with fury, and there was a bit of whiteness at the corners of his mouth.
“Well?” Bryce said. “If yer life is ruined, then donnae ruin another’s life.” His eyes darted to Lorna’s. They were wide, and her face was pale, but she would remain strong. He could see the trust in them, and that gave him strength as well.
Athol shook his head, and Fergus stepped forward. “Lorna is the innocent one in all this. Ye donnae need tae hurt her lad.”
“It is because of ye!” Athol cried. “Ye threatened me with disowning. I couldnae earn the Lairdship if ye found out about me daughter.”
“We could have worked something out, Athol. We could have talked about it instead of ye doing so much tae hide it.” Fergus moved a little closer, too. Bryce was hopeful they’d be able to disarm Athol if they got close enough.
But they hadn’t yet. Athol just kept shaking his head. “Lost, all lost. Siusan died for nothing too.”
“Siusan?” Fergus asked, but Bryce knew they needed to ignore other distractions. His eyes were firmly on that blade at Lorna’s throat.
“Ye willnae kill Lorna, Athol. I ken it. Ye will nae. Ye care for her. She is yer daughter, yer flesh and blood. Ye will nae hurt the one ye love.” Bryce was keeping his voice slow and steady and calming.
He couldn’t tell if any of the words were getting through, but then, Athol cried out, “Ye are the one who brought this upon her. Ye! I told ye the tale of her parentage in secret, and ye had tae go and tell her, and then ye had tae dig even further.”
Struggling to keep his voice low and calm, Bryce replied, “Ye didnae even tell me the truth. It was a lie tae keep me from searching.”
“And yet it didnae work!” Athol flung Lorna aside, and he lunged toward Bryce, the blade at the ready.
Bryce had only seconds to feel sweet relief that Lorna was safe. Tobias rushed to help her, while Athol lifted the blade up in the air to bring it down onto Bryce. Bryce didn’t waste any time. No matter the consequence, he pulled a dagger from his belt and thrust it into Athol’s torso. The man froze, his wide eyes looking into Bryce’s. They were full of anger and hatred, but guilt resided there too. Bryce pulled his blade out and pushed Athol away. The man stumbled back until he fell on the bed and clutched at his wound.
Without a word, Fergus hurried to join him. Bryce looked at Lorna who was now being helped to her feet by Tobias. “Thank ye,” she said, and she rushed into his arms.
* * *
Lorna sat at the side of Athol’s bed, holding onto a warm cup of wine. He was resting, still alive, but it had been close. After the fight, the men had helped her and Athol back to the keep, and the healer was rushed to Athol’s bedside to stem the bleeding from his wound. Bryce had remained silent, even though he’d hugged her tightly before a maid took her upstairs to bathe and rest. Once she was ready, she went to Athol’s chamber to see how he fared, and she found him alone.
Sighing, she realized the enormity of what Bryce had done. He’d come and saved her, and finally the mystery of the murders had been solved. Tobias had left the keep once everyone arrived to get word to his men. Once Athol was healed, he would be taken into custody. One of the warriors stood guard just outside as well. As she watched Athol sleeping, she found that she didn’t feel as much as she thought she would.
She was sad, but it didn’t change that much in her mind to find out that he was her father. Clearly, he was mad, and he had taken that madness out on far too many innocent people, especially women. She felt sorry for Mrs. Creech and Conan McTavish and Kyla, and for any other young girls who had been victims to his advances.
